Hold On
by YourEyesAreFullofHate41
Summary: Malarkey just needed to feel something after Bastogne.


**I do not own anything of BoB. This story is based on the characters of the TV show and not the actual men of Easy company. I mean them no disrespect.**

 **This has been rolling in my head for awhile and it wanted out.**

* * *

 _March 13, 1945_

 _Paris, France_

Malarkey blinked. And then he blinked again but the image wouldn't leave him. It was a wash of snow and dirt and blood and splintered wood, and it wouldn't disappear from behind his eyelids.

The idea was to come to Paris and feel something. Anything. Even physical pain would be a welcomed release, but depressed and broken as he was, he didn't have the balls to do something extreme. Instead, he found her instead.

He hardly heard the words as she crooned in his ear. With her thighs straddling his, she took charge. She was encouraged when his hands grasped her hips and she felt him respond beneath her. But it was automatic. It was all automatic. His body might be responding to her light and teasing touch, but his mind - his goddamn mind - remained in Bastogne. He had used a huge chunk of his winnings to pay her to make that hellhole go away, but now it only reminded him of the money he borrowed from Skip. That seemed like a lifetime ago.

Skip Muck. His friend. Disappeared. Gone. In a puff of red mist. And God had the audacity to leave his rosary behind. His fucking rosary.

He didn't allow Penkala to have anything for them to remember him by. Maybe a finger or two. Malarkey choked back a sudden laugh when he thought about how Penkala would feel about that. Probably hoped it was his middle finger at least to flip off everyone one last time.

She moved then, expecting him to follow. She tugged on his hand until he sat up. He figured maybe she thought he'd like another position. Something that forced him to move. Hell, maybe it would work.

Her naked body glistened as she pulled him off the bed. On her hands and knees now, she waited for him to come up behind her. He obeyed, allowing his body to continue to do all the work.

With each thrust from him and moan from her, it was as if a bomb went off. Again. And again. And again. Flashes appeared in front of him, and he could almost feel the heat off the blasts on his exposed face. He stopped moving against her.

To her credit, she didn't get annoyed with him. Instead she only crawled up the bed and beckoned him to come with her. He lied on his back obediently. Knowing without him saying that he didn't have anything left, she moved her lips down his body until finding purchase near his hips.

He tried to focus on the physical pleasure she was giving him. And it sometimes worked. But for the most part, his eyes remained glued to the stained ceiling. After a long time, he felt himself go rigid and she was finished.

As he pulled his clothes on, she sauntered over to a small desk in her room. Tearing a piece of paper from the journal there, she scribbled him a quick note. Looking at him through her eyelashes, she tucked it into the pocket by his heart. With a kiss on the cheek and murmur of thanks, he left her and made his way back outside.

He wandered the darkened streets for a long time, not ready to head back to his empty room at the inn. A pack of laughing British soldiers passed by, one asking him if he had a light. Patting his pockets, he realized he left it back with Luz. He shook his head silently and walked on, but not before finding the note from her. He opened up the folded piece of paper. Inside were only three words.

" _Reste fort, soldat_."

* * *

 _March 23, 1945_

 _Sturzelberg, Germany_

He wasn't sure why exactly, but he kept that note from her. Her eyes as she handed it to him were the only thing he really remembered from that night. He couldn't even use alcohol as an excuse since he hadn't touch the stuff since his last gathering with Muck and Penkala. But that was probably the next step, unfortunately.

His fingers traced the french words for awhile. He didn't notice Roe stepping up beside him.

"What's that, sergeant?"

Malarkey jumped, still on edge even after weeks. He thought a moment before handing it to Roe, who always managed to be nearby somehow. Probably to make sure he didn't jump in the river. "Can you tell me what this says, Doc?" His voice cracked. He tried to think back to the last time he used it.

Roe took the slip from him. He wasn't sure if he should smile or frown. He answered him simply, "It says, 'stay strong, soldier.'" He handed the paper back to Malarkey before walking away again.

He once again traced the feminine script with his fingers, staring at the words and her eyes came back to him again. He felt something then. It took him awhile, but he realized it was gratitude.

Slipping the paper into the pocket of his shirt, Malarkey walked towards his platoon, knowing they were waiting for him. But he kept that feeling inside him that she gave and held on tight.

 _fin._


End file.
